Marionette
by a-cool-moonlight
Summary: Peyton had hoped that things would be different for the two of them now that the were older. She was wrong. Oneshot. BREYTON.


Disclaimer: I don't own these girls

**Disclaimer: I don't own these girls... (too bad, huh??) **

I was in the kitchen, trying to decide what to do about dinner when I heard her behind me.

"Tough day?" she asked, her husky voice testing me.

"It was okay, Mia and I worked everything out. She's going on tour after all." I said, without turning around.

Expensive heels clicked on tile. She was standing right behind me. I could picture her there, one hand resting on a jutted hip. I closed my eyes, already knowing exactly where this was going. The tension between us was practically tangible.

"And your day?" I asked hesitantly.

Two more steps. Right behind me. Things had been good since we moved back to Tree Hill. No more games. Just a regular friendship. Part of me had been naive enough to think that it was over; that maybe she had forgotten or just tired of toying with me like she used to. Part of me hoped that in all the time spent apart, Brooke Davis had grown up. And yet, a small part of me didn't.

Brooke pressed herself against me, letting her head rest on my shoulder. I could feel her breasts on my back, sheer layers of clothing the only thing separating us. My entire body tensed, ever muscle frozen in self-control. Fuck. There was no way she didn't feel that. I was doing it again, letting her get the best of me. She turned her face towards my neck, pressing her lips against me, surely feeling my pulse race.

"Better now." She mumbled into my skin, her sultry tone giving me shivers.

She slowly began to wrap her arms around my stomach. The smell of her was intoxicating. It was a poisonous mixture of her perfume, shampoo, sweat and a little bit of liquor. I was getting lightheaded, already going limp and giving in. She was winning and she knew it.

She brought her face in closer, the gap between my neck and her head now nonexistent. She inhaled deeply, taking me in and letting out a little satisfied sigh.

"You smell better than I remembered, P. Sawyer."

She could smell the desire on me. She had always been able to. I think that was how she had figured it all out in the first place. It had always been a talent of hers. Brooke could smell sex just as easily as any other smell in the world. Neither one of us had to say anything for her to know the truth about how I felt. And once she realized that the waves of sheer lust rolling off of me were directed at her, she had started toying with me. It had started off innocently enough, she would test the water every once and a while, just to see how I reacted. She must have found my confusing response of agony and bliss to be strangely interesting, because torturing me became one of her favorite pastimes. She knew that a single touch sent me spinning, loving the power I gave her. But her games started to progress at an alarming rate, until she had complete control over me. I still couldn't figure out if she did it for her own pleasure or just for amusement, but either way, I was nothing more than a rabbit dangling listlessly from her gorgeous vulpine jaws.

My thoughts were broken as I felt her teeth on my skin, nipping at it tenderly. My lips parted slightly as I fought to remain in control. I knew all to well what would happen if I gave in. She bit down harder, and I let my head roll back in resignation, exposing my neck. Giving in. As I felt her teeth sink in deeper, one last time, I bit my lip to keep it from coming up but it was already too late. A throaty moan escaped past my lips. It was over. She had won, yet again.

"Easy." She whispered, but it might have just been my imagination.

I felt her arms slide out from their hold around my waist, as she withdrew herself from me. I shivered as cold air met my exposed midriff. Her heels echoed on the tile as she sauntered away, the sound fading as she walked out of the room. Before I could turn around, she stopped, and swiveled to face my back once again.

"You know, Peyton, I was thinking that maybe we could eat in tonight. Just you and me." I didn't have be looking at her to see the smirk played out on her face.

I sighed, and walked over to the cabinet, grabbing a bottle of whiskey. It was going to be a long night, because no matter how much time had gone by, I was still her marionette, and she still knew how to pull all the right strings.


End file.
